You must forgive the poet’s license I take. She stood up before him, smiling faintly. Without turning or looking in his direction she leaned forwards, her head supported upon her fingers, her elbows upon her knees. Of course she had taken the boy as her lover, acting as his muse. . Her father was an astute businessman and a hard worker, but also handsome in the face which had aided partly his ascension to the Guild. Arrived at the secret door, she grasped the lever that opened it and placed the lantern on the floor. The occasion is worth a dash of the grape, lad. It was dated from the House of Commons on the previous day.
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